


This is Who I Am

by KeybladeBanditJing



Series: Secluded Spaces [1]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeybladeBanditJing/pseuds/KeybladeBanditJing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can you hear me? Can you feel me? This is who I am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Who I Am

Fate was a bitch and it hated him.

The one room he had gone to to try to escape… had to have a piano in it.

Of course.

And he just _had_ to go to it and sit down at the bench, staring at the cover over the keys.

His hands lifted the cover before he even remembered giving them permission to do so.

God dammit.

He didn’t raise his hands to play, electing instead to just sit there with his hands hanging at his sides, staring at the black and white teeth of the creature before him, staring back at him with a mocking grin.

Unbidden, a memory rose. Of the last time he’d played. A representative of the school whose halls he now used to hide had listened to him play, and for once had not asked him _why_ it had to be so dark, so twisted. They had simply told him not to stop playing that way. That he played himself. The music he produced was his very _soul_ , and that while it usually repelled others (which was true, his parents couldn’t stand his music), a meister with a similar wavelength would be drawn to it.

He had never thought of it that way, but it made sense. Well, the music being his soul did, he knew that already. But to have his music actually _draw someone in_ for once? He had a very hard time believing that.

So he’s avoided that. He’d tried being social, he really had, but he simply hadn’t found anyone who seemed to work with him, who seemed to understand him. So he’d given up and left.

And here he was.

He wondered at the representative’s words. His hands raised to the keyboard, hesitated, lowered back into his lap. He sighed. Nothing to lose anyway, right? It wasn’t like he could be heard. This room was far down the hallway from the auditorium where the party was being held.

His hands raised to the keys with more confidence this time. He took a deep breath, remembering the man’s words.

 _Play your soul._

He brought his hands down harshly on the keys, pounding out an angry, aggressive piece.

 _Can you hear me?_

Minor keys, jumbled notes, all somehow still coming together in a piece that flowed together nicely, but only to him.

 _Can you **feel** me?_

Crescendos and decrescendos, no set rhythm but the one his soul gave him, notes seemingly at random but in reality all planned meticulously in his head.

 _This is who I am._

He brought his hands down hard on the keys, ending the song with a dissonant clang of notes. He signed and moved to stand, then suddenly realized he wasn’t alone.

There, standing at the door, not retreating but not intruding, was a girl. A scrawny, simple girl with jade green eyes that betrayed so much more beneath the surface, and a simple answer that betrayed so much more meaning.

“Yes.”

 _I heard you._

 _I felt you._

 _I accept and understnd who you are._   
__


End file.
